The Fire Series
by Flatkatsi
Summary: A confrontation with death
1. When the Wind Comes Up

When the Wind Comes Up  
  
Jack O'Neill was not normally the sort of man that worried about what was around the next corner. His philosophy of life had changed the moment that his son had died. Now he just went from day to day, doing what he had to do without much concern for his own future.  
  
He worried about other people's future of course - Daniel, Carter, Teal'c and all those other people that were important to him. He even worried about the Big Picture - the future of the human race. But until this day, he hadn't worried about his own future for a very long time.  
  
Now that had all changed.  
  
One thing that he hadn't thought to consider was the method of his death. He had experienced so many variations on that theme that he really didn't care anymore.  
  
Now he did.  
  
Fire had never been something to worry about either. It was a handy tool, a useful way to heat coffee and feel companionship. Sitting around the fire. Enjoying each other's company.  
  
He had never thought of it as the means of his death. Now he realised that fire was the worst possible way that he could think of to die.  
  
His breath was coming in short gasps now as he ran, the crackling of the flames hideously close and coming closer by the minute. He knew that he couldn't outrun this monster. It was charging after him with the speed of an express train. He had to find shelter and fast.  
  
There were the sounds of sharp explosions as the trees behind him burst into flame, the resin from their bark and the oil from their leaves adding fuel to the beast's insatiable appetite. Desperation gave his legs the stamina that they needed and he raced on, his eyes flickering from side to side.  
  
There!  
  
A stream running between two steeply sloping rocky banks. Not much, but it was all that he had.  
  
He wedged himself into the deep, narrow cleft in the rocks and held his breath, every part of his body covered by the tepid water. There was nothing else to do.  
  
The sound was like the thunder of a tornado rolling up and over him. The very air hissed and sizzled.  
  
And then it just vanished.  
  
There was no air. Nothing to breathe but fire. Or water.  
  
He chose the water.  
  
His lungs strained.  
  
He felt the convulsive gulping that was his body's way of telling him that he needed oxygen.  
  
But he held on until he could hold on no more. At last his mouth opened and he took in a mouthful of the stream, before surging to the surface, his eyes shut.  
  
The silence was eerie.  
  
Cautiously opening his eyes, he looked around. There was nothing left. Never would he complain about trees again. The world was a uniform black - billowing smoke swirling around and through the stumps. Thick, arid, choking smoke.  
  
And Jack discovered another way that he didn't want to die.  
  
His already abused lungs fought to filter the ash from the air. He coughed, a deep hacking cough and sank to his knees, his wet uniform soaking up the hot cinders and the grey dirty ash.  
  
It had been for nothing.  
  
And then the wind came up.  
  
The ash ghosts danced around him and moved away. The smoke streamed upwards, over his head and off. The cinders blew their way across the ground.  
  
And he drew a long, cleansing breath.  
  
With his last remaining energy, Jack O'Neill staggered to his feet and began the journey back towards the gate and home.  
  
His list of ways to die expanded. 


	2. When the Smoke Clears

When the Smoke Clears  
  
They walked out of the gate and stood, stunned by the sight.  
  
None of them could think of anything to say. It was impossible to see how anyone could survive such a thing, such utter and complete devastation. There was nothing recognisable.  
  
Then Daniel put it into words.  
  
"We left him."  
  
And there was silence once more. There was nothing else to say.  
  
As one they began the walk to their old campsite, scared of what they might find there, but knowing that they had to do it. The walk was short, the ground still hot under their feet.  
  
Sam kicked at the twisted metal, her boot stirring up the thick layer of ash and making it swirl. Whatever it had been, it wasn't recognisable now. Other forlorn objects lay strewn across the ground, scattered by who knew what.  
  
He had been looking for water. Checking out the area. He had said that he wouldn't be gone long. Only a few minutes.  
  
He was gone now.  
  
The fire had taken them by surprise, the wall of flame impenetrable. It had beaten even Teal'c back. There had been only one way to go and they had been forced to take it.  
  
They left him.  
  
And although they knew that there had been no choice, they also knew that they could never forgive themselves.  
  
Never.  
  
In those last seconds before they entered the wormhole they had looked around desperately for any sign, even knowing that it was impossible for him to reach them.  
  
The smoke had already been too thick, too choking. The smoke still hung in the air, the smell of burning pungent even now.  
  
So they had gone home to face the disbelief, the shock and, they were sure, the disappointment. No one had said it, put it into words - but they had known.  
  
He had been left behind.  
  
Now they were back. Not a rescue mission.  
  
Just retrieval.  
  
They didn't discuss which way to go. It really didn't matter. They would find him eventually.  
  
He would go home.  
  
They were looking for metal. The glint of dog tags in the weak daylight.  
  
They were surrounded by desolation; it was within them, filling them.  
  
They were numb, their minds filled with images of how it must have been.  
  
What it must have been like.  
  
The terror. Because surely even he would have been afraid.  
  
Their boots sank into the heavy cloying powder carpeting the ground as they slowly made their way forward, dreading what they would find.  
  
The cough was startling in the unnatural stillness. So startling, astonishing even, that it took a moment to register. They stopped and stared at each other, confirming that it was real, that it hadn't been their imagination.  
  
And the figure kneeling before them stretched out his hand and gave them absolution, with that one gesture cleansing their souls.  
  
They knelt beside him, each of them touching him, huddling close. Making sure that he was truly there and accepting the miracle for what it was.  
  
The smoke had cleared and they could see. He was grimy. He was shaking. He was singed at the edges. He was coughing enough to tear his lungs out.  
  
But he was smiling.  
  
And Jack O'Neill was alive.  
  
They would take him home. 


	3. When the Ash Settles

When the Ash Settles  
  
Jack had gone as far as he could. His clothes were still wet and heavy, covered now with a clinging layer of ash.  
  
He blinked away the burning tears from his eyes and looked around him, trying to get some idea of where he was in relation to the gate, but everything had changed. So he sunk to his knees and waited. He didn't know how long he knelt there and after a while he began to forget why.  
  
Then the wind came up and the swirling smoke parted, revealing hazy figures floating towards him. He remembered why he was there and he reached out an arm and smiled.  
  
Hands touched him, holding him tight. He felt them around him and knew that he had been right to not accept death. He remembered the certainty that they would come.  
  
The absolute certainty and trust.  
  
They lifted him up and took him home.  
  
They stepped through together, Daniel and Teal'c each holding an arm, Sam leading. The Colonel shook them off and straightened, searching the room with anxious eyes.. His clothes shed the remains of the forest on to the ramp with every small step that he took. And they were very small, more a stagger than a stride.  
  
Steps sounded loud on the metal Control Room stairs before hurrying into the Gate Room. The General was panting slightly, a smile on his lips.  
  
Jack watched as he walked in, and the anxious look was replaced by one of relief. It was as if he hadn't been completely sure that he was back home until he saw Hammond.  
  
"Sir." The hoarse word was all that he managed before the coughs wracked his tall frame. He put his hand up and wiped the cloying moisture from his lips, surprised to find that it was black.  
  
He took a long, rasping breath and grabbed out, searching for support.  
  
It was very strange. He thought that the smoke had been left behind, but it seemed to have followed him. He could smell it everywhere and now it was back, wisping at the edge of his vision, getting thicker.  
  
Teal'c caught him as he fell.  
  
The others had expected it. They had watched him carefully from the moment that they had found him. Watched him struggling to walk, to see, to breathe. Now they walked behind the gurney, to the infirmary.  
  
They had thought that they had lost him once this day and they weren't about to let him out of their sight.  
  
They perched in various positions around the room, not ready to accept that they were as much in need of care as their colonel. Shock could be dealt with later.  
  
Jack held on to consciousness as the doctor examined him. He wanted water. He wanted air. He wanted to get away.  
  
He wasn't going anywhere.  
  
Ash is an evil thing when it settles in you. Jack was discovering that. As the hours passed he struggled more and more, unable to take in enough oxygen. His throat felt raw. He coughed and wheezed and choked. When the tube was finally put down his throat, his team watched on, refusing to leave.  
  
They were going to be there for him, this time.  
  
He searched them out, each isolated in their small space. Daniel huddled in on himself by the doorway. Sam, with knees up, against the wall. Teal'c, rigidly straight, as close to his bed as possible.  
  
His eyes never left them.  
  
Until they shut, knowing that, at last it was alright to stop fighting.  
  
Because he knew that they would be there when he woke. 


	4. When the Smell Lingers

When the Smell Lingers  
  
There was something about waking up in the infirmary. There was this comforting sense of security - knowing that you are home, but somehow, there was also a sense of fear - not knowing if this time would be the last or if you were going to be given another chance.  
  
And how much of a chance that would be.  
  
Jack knew that he had been given another chance and that he was grateful.  
  
He had barely been conscious of his terror as he lay in the stream and prayed that the flames would pass him by. He had barely been conscious of the walk back towards the gate, or of falling to his knees. But what he did remember, and remember clearly, was the certainty that he would be found.  
  
Now he lay, eyes slitted and watchful. Silent - not by necessity because of the tube in his throat, that had never stopped him before - but because he just wanted to watch without being observed. He didn't have many opportunities to be the watcher. Usually it was the other way around.  
  
They were all there, as he knew that they would be. Daniel reading, Carter dozing and Teal'c just sitting. They must have taken turns to get showered and changed - he knew the routine, how it worked, he had done it often enough himself.  
  
So he enjoyed himself and just watched.  
  
He wasn't sure how long it was before he realised that the watcher had become the watched. It may have been from the moment that he had woken. Teal'c inclined his head in a shallow bow, a tiny smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. He didn't speak, by mutual unspoken consent they left their comrades undisturbed.  
  
Jack watched the rise and fall of Sam's chest, an even deep rhythm so easy to take for granted.  
  
That had been taken from him. He remembered gasping for every breath, choking desperately. He felt the tube, uncomfortable in his raw throat.  
  
So easy to take it for granted.  
  
Jack mentally wrote a list of things that he took for granted. It wasn't a long list. Some of the most important things weren't on it anymore. Some of the items on it had only been added recently. And he knew that nothing was written in indelible ink.  
  
Trust.  
  
Friendship.  
  
Survival.  
  
Death.  
  
Some of these things he had been taught by the people in this room and they had been hard lessons to learn.  
  
Trust had been the hardest.  
  
Jack knew that he hadn't truly realised how well he had learnt that lesson until the fire. At no time had he doubted. He had had complete trust.  
  
And he understood that it was that certainty that had kept him alive.  
  
He could still smell the smoke, still feel the heat. The awesome tread of that other thing that he took for granted, that other certainty, death, sounding soft and somehow sweet in his ears. Even now he knew that it would be a simple thing to listen and answer. He was still partially in that hushed and peaceful place, that fine and quiet limbo between giving up and stepping forward. Only a thin thread held him, tightly wound around and around and easily traced back to the three people in this room.  
  
Jack held that thread. The thread could still be easily broken, but he held it firmly.  
  
And he let his eyes shut once more, giving Teal'c a last look, one survivor to another, and he drifted.  
  
He would not be plagued by nightmares. Most of his nightmares were of the times before he learnt what he now took for granted.  
  
The smell of smoke would be with him, a part of him, for a long time yet. It lingered - but it wasn't a reminder. Jack wasn't thinking of what might have been, because there was no purpose in that, but thinking of how things were.  
  
Teal'c softly touched the Colonel's arm, his movement calm and unseen by the others. He felt the gentle beat of the pulse, so light and fragile and he bound his comrade tightly to him with the unseen thread. 


	5. When the Water Rises

When the Water Rises  
  
They should have heard the thread snap, but they didn't.  
  
They had relaxed; all three of them overcome by the events of the past hours. But the thread had been thin and stretched to breaking point.  
  
The room was still, only the sound of the machinery a small quiet hum in the background. The sudden alarms startled them into awareness and they stood, stunned. They were rigid pieces of stillness in the frantic activity, their faces reflecting their horror.  
  
When the crisis was over they still stood, numbed.  
  
This was just too much to take in. Too much for their exhausted senses to handle.  
  
It seemed to them that they had lurched from one crisis to another, each time thinking that it was over, only to be proved wrong yet again. And each time their understanding of what this man meant to them had grown.  
  
They were not about to give him up. He was a part of each of them and they a part of him. They were tied together as inexorably as a parent to a child.  
  
The guilt was still there. Knowing that they had left him behind to come so close to death.  
  
Deep within them they knew that there had been no choice. That they had done the right thing. But it still had gone against everything that the Colonel stood for - it was one of the fundamental rules that he lived by.  
  
They would each have to deal with that guilt in their own individual way. But now was not the time.  
  
As they stood together watching over him, they knew that the guilt would have to be put aside for the moment. Their strength was needed.  
  
Jack had heard the thread snap. The end had slipped through his fingers when he let himself rest for a moment. It had surprised him. He had thought that he was safe now. Home. But that safety had just been an illusion. A seductive one, but an illusion none the less.  
  
He could feel the forest within him, the trees gigantic and suffocating. Even in death, they tried to snare him, their ghosts filling his lungs with pain. He had struggled against them - still struggled.  
  
He had always known that trees would be his nemesis.  
  
No one could understand why he had returned with symptoms of drowning to complicate the effects of the fire. He hadn't been able to speak, to explain. As he lay there now, he felt the water fill him, submerging the forest and leaving its own imprint on his abused body. Drifting on the edge of consciousness, he could not help but give a small deprecating laugh. He could almost hear the jokes from his team - only he could drown in a fire.  
  
Behind his closed lids he sensed shapes and movement, but there was no sound. They were there, he knew. Teal'c, Carter, Daniel. His team was there. His friends.  
  
He knew that they were there. They had been before.  
  
They wouldn't leave him now.  
  
Would they?  
  
He was getting weaker.  
  
They each knew the other's guilt. They didn't need to talk.  
  
Teal'c glanced up - the sound had been almost too quiet to be heard. A laugh? The man in the bed hadn't moved. He must have been mistaken.  
  
The Colonel looked so small, lying there, suddenly bereft. Slowly they moved forward, worried, but not for any reason that they could put their finger on. The quiet nurse scanned the readouts and hurried to call the doctor.  
  
"Jack?" Daniel was the first to speak.  
  
The eyes flickered open, red rimmed and hurting, then shut almost as quickly. He couldn't speak yet, but he did the next best thing.  
  
Hurting, the water rising within, he still managed it.  
  
He smiled. 


	6. When the Tide Turns

When the Tide Turns  
  
He smiled and tried not to die once more.  
  
He wouldn't do it to them. He had responsibilities.  
  
The water was rising within his body but he wasn't going to let it overwhelm him. Slowly he beat it back, bailing it with tiny scoops within his mind. The water had saved his life once; he was not about to let it kill him now.  
  
The medical team treated the symptoms of drowning in their bewildering patient, fighting the pneumonia that was fast becoming deadly. This time they made his team leave, they had become a worrying distraction. SG-1 knew that the doctor was right but it had taken an order from the General to send them reluctantly on their way.  
  
To the dismay of the medical staff, the General had then become an even more disconcerting presence in their midst, watching them like a hawk as they worked on the Colonel. It was as if he had been waiting for an excuse to be there.  
  
He wasn't like the members of SG-1, silent. He asked questions, queried actions, demanded answers. They had never seen him like this before. Then it dawned on the doctor that this was the way that a relative acted when their child or their parent was in danger of dying. She had seen the Colonel's reaction to the sight of the General when he was first brought home. Now she saw that the relief had been mutual and that the General had been as much in need of reassurance as the Colonel's teammates. It was easy to forget that behind that stern military façade there was a man with few friends. Their job did not allow them to have close friendships, friendships where they could talk about their work over a few beers on a Friday night.  
  
One of the General's closest friends was lying here in front of him and the General was hurting.  
  
Jack continued to bail, keeping the water at bay. It was lapping against the walls that he had built, threatening to break through. He wasn't aware of the people around him. His whole existence was distilled down into the fight to live. Nothing showed on his face, barely visible behind the equipment helping him to breathe.  
  
He stayed tight inside, putting everything into survival just as he had when this whole adventure began. He had a singularity of purpose. The adrenaline that had kept him alive through the fire was still with him, like an extra pair of hands helping him to stay afloat.  
  
The tide turned when the light was fading up above in the outside world. When the news spread it was as if everyone in the mountain had been holding their collective breaths. The relief was palatable. The mess was filled with the sound of cheerful inconsequential chatter, missing for days.  
  
And at last Jack opened his eyes and kept them open.  
  
They took the tube from his throat and disconnected some of the machines, but not all. He would have to put up with the others for a while longer.  
  
His friends were there, back from their exile. All of them. The General touched him briefly on the shoulder as if grounding himself, and with a satisfied smile, returned to his office where he could have the privacy that he needed. It wouldn't do to show just how much the survival of one man meant to him. He knew that he shouldn't have favorites, but he did.  
  
The others just sat, basking in the sight of the Colonel able to stay awake at last.  
  
Teal'c was the first to break the silence.  
  
"It is good to see you well, O'Neill." He inclined his head and waited patiently while his comrade took a moment to swallow and ease his long unused throat muscles. He looked at Sam and Daniel and received a confirming nod from each. "We were concerned."  
  
There really was no need for Jack to answer. .  
  
Then he saw the glint of tears in Daniel's eyes, the smile lighting up Sam's face and began to truly understand what they had gone through.  
  
They had been right there bailing alongside of him all along. 


	7. When the Cold Creeps In

When the Cold Creeps In  
  
Jack sat, cocooned in blankets. Despite the coverings he still felt the cold, a bone aching wearying cold that reached down deep and grabbed at him. He had felt like this since he had been released from the infirmary.  
  
Since he had come home.  
  
To his house surrounded by trees.  
  
He was sitting in the window, glaring out at the falling rain, feeling the dampness settle around him.  
  
He never seemed to be able to get warm.  
  
He coughed, the same deep hacking cough that had kept him in the doctor's clutches for so long. The same cough that he had taken so much effort to conceal.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
He had forgotten that he had company, let his guard down for a minute. The worried sound in Carter's voice was enough to bring in the others, concerned looks on their faces.  
  
"What?" Denial was his only weapon. That and distraction. "I thought that you were getting me a drink. Throat's getting dry here."  
  
But even the drink, when it was handed to him, annoyed him. Beef bouillon. To build him up. The only thing that it had to recommend it was that it was hot and eased the tightness in his chest, if only for a short time.  
  
They had worked out why he had both water and smoke in his lungs. It had been Carter that came up with the answer after looking once again at the original UAV footage of the planet. The stream, some distance from the gate, had sparkled in the bright sunlight, wending its way between the forest giants. How he had reached it they could only guess, but they knew that he must have. It was the only answer. Just how long he had had to stay under, holding his breath while the fire roared above him, was also conjecture. They had never asked the Colonel what he recalled. If he wanted to talk about it, he would.  
  
He was a private man and not given to bursts of emotion. It was enough to know that he was alive.  
  
All of them held their guilt tight within themselves, unable to let it go.  
  
All four of them had secrets.  
  
The coldness of the day permeated the open room, causing Daniel to shiver and reach for the controls to the nearby heater. He felt ready to weep with frustration. Frustration that he couldn't bring out into the open what was eating at him. Frustration that his friends were hurting. And, by far the most important - frustration that Jack had closed himself off to them, as he so often did.  
  
He looked at his friend huddled in the chair, looking weary beyond his years. Jack should never have left the base. Daniel could feel the brittleness surrounding him, as if he was frozen. As if the slightest touch would break him. It hurt to see Jack like this. So vulnerable.  
  
The ice crystals settled around Jack, making him fold into himself even more. He didn't want to move. Didn't want to talk, be hospitable. He had been silent for so long now, unable to speak, that it had become a habit - one that he was reluctant to break. If it broke and the ice melted, who knew what would be revealed.  
  
The trees around his house shook in the bitter breeze. Daniel shivered once again and Jack looked up to give him an irritated stare.  
  
He didn't need them here.  
  
If they weren't here he could let the coldness in.  
  
It might quench the flames that he could see whenever he shut his eyes. Silence that awesome sound that he had heard through the water. Douse the embers that still ate at him. Stop the fire from consuming him.  
  
He was afraid that unless he let the cold creep in, he would burn up.  
  
He sat in his chair and his friends sat with him, unable to break through the solid wall of ice that he had allowed to grow.  
  
Jack coughed. A deep hacking soul destroying cough.  
  
And they looked away. 


	8. When the Ice Melts

When the Ice Melts  
  
By Chezza  
  
Note from Flatkatsi: This episode of the Fire Series was written by Chezza. The series wouldn't be complete without it. Thanks Chezza.  
  
Author Note: This is for Karen's who wanted a 'Lilo and Stitch' fic, which is what set the plot bunnies bouncing around frantically. This is possibly the quickest fic I've written that hasn't been a drabble - I completed it in one evening! Which is incredibly quick for me. It's also the closest I've ever got to whumping Jack, so that's a bit of a landmark for me. I feel suitably proud.  
  
  
  
Oh and there really is a James Taylor aka Stitch. And no he really doesn't like Disney any more....  
  
***********  
  
Cassie could hear the sounds of voices as she opened the front door and let herself in.  
  
  
  
"I don't know what to do Jan. It's almost as if - "   
  
  
  
The voice broke off at the sound of the door closing behind her. Cassie frowned. It sounded like Sam's voice. It also sounded like she was upset about something.  
  
  
  
"Hey Mom!" She shouted, making herself known. There was no point in trying to eavesdrop. They knew she was in the house and they obviously weren't going to carry on now that she was there.  
  
  
  
"Hi Cass." She heard her Mom call back.   
  
  
  
"We're in the kitchen."   
  
  
  
Yep, Cassie thought to herself. There was a definite note of forced cheerfulness there. Walking through into the kitchen she found her Mom and Sam sat at the breakfast bar, nursing coffee mugs.  
  
  
  
"Hey Sam." She said. "What are you doing here?"  
  
  
  
Sam laughed, but it sounded false. Her eyes were red. Had she been crying?  
  
  
  
"I just dropped by to have a chat with your Mom. Aren't I allowed to do that anymore?"  
  
  
  
Cassie shrugged. "Sure, I guess."  
  
  
  
She looked at them both, neither would look her in the eye. Something was definitely wrong.   
  
  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
  
  
Janet and Sam exchanged glances.   
  
  
  
"Nothing's wrong, Cass." Sam said.  
  
  
  
Cass opened her mouth to argue with the obvious falsehood, but Janet cut her off.  
  
  
  
"So what's in the bag Cass, that was so important you had to go rushing out today to buy it?"  
  
  
  
Cassie blushed. She was so hoping they wouldn't ask that! She shuffled her feet.  
  
  
  
"It's um...it's a present for Jamie. It's his birthday tomorrow."  
  
  
  
Sam looked blank. "Who's Jamie?"  
  
  
  
Janet smirked. "Jamie's, Cassies' new *boyfriend*."  
  
  
  
Cassie blushed. "Mom! Don't say that! I don't have a boyfriend! James is just a...friend. That's all."  
  
  
  
"Ah." Sam said, nodding her head wisely. "So...um, what happened to Dominic?"   
  
  
  
Janet winced.  
  
  
  
Cassie scowled. "He ran off with Lindsey."  
  
  
  
"Oh." Sam mouthed. "Lindsey, as in your 'best friend' Lindsey?"  
  
  
  
Cassie's scowl deepened. "She's not my best friend any more."  
  
  
  
"No." Sam said tactfully. "I imagine not."  
  
  
  
Janet cleared her throat in the awkward silence that followed. "So Cassie, can we have a look at what you bought him?"  
  
  
  
Cassie gave them a dubious look. "You promise not to laugh?"  
  
  
  
Janet and Sam exchanged glances again.   
  
  
  
"Okay, Cass" Sam said.  
  
  
  
Closely followed by Janet's "Sure honey."  
  
  
  
Cassie pulled the present out of the bag. Janet's lips twitched. Cassie glared at her. They'd promised not to laugh. Sam coughed to avoid bursting into hysterics.  
  
  
  
"That's um...nice Cass. Very nice. But...err, are you sure he'll like it?" Janet asked gesturing at the small blue fluffy toy.  
  
  
  
Cassie rolled her eyes and shook the toy at them. "It's a *joke*, Mom. He'll understand it. See, this is Stitch. You know - from the Disney film 'Lilo and Stitch'?"  
  
  
  
"Err, yes?" Janet answered, unable to follow the thinking.  
  
  
  
Cassie sighed impatiently, frustrated that they hadn't got the joke already. It never occurred to her that they didn't know the boy in question well enough to get the joke. He was currently at the centre of her thinking, so he should be at the centre of their's as well.  
  
  
  
"His full name's James Taylor, Mom." She looked at them. Still blank expressions. She sighed again. Jeez, adults could be so slow on the uptake sometimes....   
  
  
  
"*James Taylor*? As in 'tailor'? He doesn't like his name, so everyone calls him Stitch. You know - tailor, stitch? Geddit?"  
  
  
  
"Ah yes..." Janet said slowly. "That's very clever, Cass. Really."  
  
  
  
Cassie stared at her for a moment, not convinced of her sincerity, then turned to Sam.  
  
  
  
Sam coughed. "I'm...sure he'll appreciate it, Cass. Really."  
  
  
  
Cassie narrowed her eyes. Obviously they didn't understand. "I'm just gonna go put this in my room."  
  
  
  
Janet nodded. "Okay, honey."  
  
  
  
Cassie gave them one last look, they both maintained straight faces. Cassie sniffed, then turned out and walked out.  
  
  
  
She made to walk away to wards her room, deliberately making her footsteps louder than normal. Then she turned round and crept softly back to the side of the door and listened carefully.  
  
  
  
"Oh God." She heard Sam chuckle.  
  
  
  
"Don't say it." Her Mom pleaded.  
  
  
  
"I know, I know. It's just so...sweet."  
  
  
  
"Oh, to be that age again..."  
  
  
  
"Yeah." Sam said softly.  
  
  
  
There was silence for a minute, then she heard her Mom say, "So...what were you about to say before Cassie came home?"  
  
  
  
Sam sighed. "It's just...I really don't know what to do, Janet. He's shutting us out and it's like we can't *stop* him. We want to help...but he's not letting us. I know, I know, he's like that, but...it's different this time, Janet. We really thought we'd lost him. And...and...  
  
  
  
"You need to know he's still there." Janet finished quietly.  
  
  
  
"Yes. It sounds silly but...we *need* to help him but he won't - and we can't make him -"  
  
  
  
"Because you feel guilty for leaving him behind. You don't want to hurt him any more."  
  
  
  
Sam laughed shortly. "Pop psych 101, right?"  
  
  
  
"He doesn't blame any of you, Sam. I'm sure of it. He'd take the three of you being safe, over you risking yourselves because of him any day, you know that."  
  
  
  
"I *know*. But it doesn't *help*. He's said he doesn't blame us and yet...God Janet you should hear him dreaming about it. It hurts just to *listen*. And we left him to deal with that. *Alone*. And you know how he feels about that. I wouldn't be surprised if he *does* blame us on some unconscious level."  
  
  
  
"You'll get through this, Sam. I know you will. You've all been through bad patches before. I *know* the four of you remember? You'll get through this one."  
  
  
  
"I hope so," Sam sighed. There was the sound of a mug being placed back on a tabletop. It was followed by the sound of a chair scraping along the floor as it was pushed backwards.  
  
  
  
"I should be get back. Maybe things will be better...thanks for letting me stop by, Janet. I just...needed to get out of there for a while."  
  
  
  
Another chair was pushed back.  
  
  
  
"Anytime, Sam. You know that."  
  
  
  
Cassie stepped away from the door. Seconds later Sam and Janet walked through it.  
  
  
  
"Cassie!" Janet said in shock.  
  
  
  
Cassie flushed slightly and stared at her shoes. "It's Jack isn't it?"  
  
  
  
She looked up in time to see Sam and Janet exchange a glance. How much did she know? It asked.  
  
  
  
Cassie jutted her jaw out stubbornly. "I'm right aren't I? You were talking about Jack."  
  
  
  
Sam gave a slight nod and Janet sighed. "Yes, Cass. We were talking about Jack."  
  
  
  
"Is he...is he gonna be okay?"   
  
  
  
Thoughts of losing her favourite 'uncle' popped into Cassie's head, making her have to blink back the tears that they suddenly caused.  
  
  
  
"Yes, sweetheart, he's going to be fine. He...just needs a little time. That's all."  
  
  
  
Cassie swallowed and looked down at the furry toy still clutched in her hand. An idea occurred to her. She raised her head.  
  
  
  
"I want you to give him this."  
  
  
  
Sam sighed. "Cass I'm sorry, but I don't think a fluffy toy is going to help."  
  
  
  
Cassie shook her head. "I don't care. I want you to give it to Jack."  
  
  
  
"But Cass," Janet intervened, trying to reason with her. "I thought that was for uh, Stitch's birthday."  
  
  
  
Cassie shrugged. "It was. But I can always get him something else. He won't mind. Jack needs it more."  
  
  
  
She looked at them both. "Please?"  
  
  
  
Sam looked at her for a long moment, then shook her head and held out her hand. "Okay Cass."  
  
  
  
Janet looked at her sharply. "Sam...are you sure it won't do more harm than good?"  
  
  
  
"It's won't!" Cassie insisted. "It'll *help*, I know it will."  
  
  
  
Janet looked at her and raised a skeptical eyebrow.  
  
  
  
Cassie did her best to ignore it and concentrated on Sam. She had to make sure Sam got the message right. "He needs to know *why* as well, Sam. So listen carefully. I want you to tell him - "  
  
  
  
~~~o0o~~~  
  
  
  
Jack flew awake with a start, the feeling of searing, oppressive heat bearing down on him, making him flinch and gasp for the breath, through the tightness in his chest. Disorientated, he could hear the roar of fire underscored by the low crackle and occasional pop as it consumed everything in it's path. He could smell the bitter, acrid smoke. It was everywhere, in his hair, his clothes, stinging in his eyes. He could taste it down the back of his throat.   
  
  
  
Struggling with the vision, he propped him himself up on his arms and looked desperately around him. The view showed that he was laying on his couch. There was no smoke, no fire, just three pairs of eyes looking worriedly at him. He closed his own eyes briefly in frustration. They were still here. When were they going to take the hint? He didn't need - or want - them there. He couldn't give them what they wanted. He couldn't accept their help in dealing this. Not right now. He was afraid of what might happen if he did.  
  
  
  
Taking a deep breath he tried to calm himself down, trying to force his racing heart to slow down. It was just a flashback, nothing he hadn't dealt with before. By himself. It backfired as his abused lungs protested the strain and he found himself coughing. Deep, hacking coughs that had him burying his face in the couch cushions to try and stop them, despite his body's incessant cries for more air.   
  
  
  
He felt a hand on his shoulder and he shook it off angrily. Dammit, he didn't need their help with this! He wasn't a baby! He kept his face buried in the cushions for a long moment as he calmed down, letting them soak up the tears had that leaked out as he fought to get his body under control. His head was pounding and his stomach was threatening to reject that god awful beef bouillon they'd made him drink earlier. Suddenly he felt desperately tired again.   
  
  
  
Unable to support himself on his shaking elbows any longer, he twisted over onto his side, his back resting against the back of the couch. And found himself face to face with a hideous blue stuffed toy sat on his coffee table. What the hell?  
  
  
  
He raised his gaze and found his team staring at him. Daniel was the closest. It was obviously his hand Jack had shaken off in anger. He looked hurt. Teal'c looked...well to be honest, Jack thought, he looked like Teal'c. Maybe slightly - concerned, if the tightness round his eyes was anything to go by. His gaze moved on to fall on Carter. She stared back for a moment, she looked...nervous? Jack narrowed his eyes and let his gaze drop to the fluffy toy. Then he looked back up at her. She flushed and looked away. Yep, there was the culprit alright.  
  
  
  
"Carter?" he demanded, wishing his voice didn't sound so weak and hoarse.  
  
  
  
She met his eyes and flushed some more. "It's from Cassie, sir."  
  
  
  
Jack blinked. "*Cassie*?"  
  
  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
  
  
Okay....  
  
  
  
"What the hell is it?"  
  
  
  
"It's Stitch, sir. From the Disney movie Lilo and Stitch."  
  
  
  
That didn't help.  
  
  
  
"And she thought I might like it because...why?"  
  
  
  
Her gaze bore into him, pinning him to the couch. He couldn't have looked away if he tried.  
  
  
  
"She said it was to remind you that you were family, sir. And family means no one gets left behind or forgotten."  
  
  
  
Oh god. Jack closed his eyes. And felt the ice begin to crack. 


	9. When the Fire is Quenched

When the Fire is Quenched  
  
Jack opened his eyes again and stared at the stupid blue object for a moment longer. Then he turned and buried himself into the couch once more. He knew that it was childish, but if he ignored it, it would just go away.  
  
Wouldn't it?  
  
He felt the abused tissues in his throat, raw and painful, and put all his energy into not coughing.  
  
What did they think that he was, a child, to be comforted by a fluffy toy?  
  
He relentlessly pushed aside all thought of the message behind the gift and concentrated on the feelings of anger.  
  
Cassie had given it to him. So they had been discussing him with Cassie. Discussing him with a child.  
  
He felt the hand on his shoulder again and this time, no matter how much he shrugged, it didn't move.  
  
"Jack. We need to talk."  
  
No - he didn't. They might, but he most certainly did not. It hurt when he talked.  
  
"O'Neill, we must discuss what has happened."  
  
Now Teal'c was getting in on the act. Ganging up on him.  
  
Why didn't they just give him a little more time? Things would come good.  
  
Eventually.  
  
Then he heard Carter. She didn't speak, but he knew that it was her. That little noise that she made when she was really upset and trying to fight back the tears.  
  
He turned around, trying to avoid noticing that Daniel's hand was having to give him a lot more help than it should have needed to.  
  
"Well?" He may be going to listen, but he wasn't going to make it easy for them. "Say what you want to say. I want to go back to sleep."  
  
He saw Daniel flinch at his tone. Teal'c shook his head slightly as if in censure.  
  
He didn't care.  
  
Did he?  
  
God! Why wouldn't they just leave him alone? They hadn't had any trouble leaving him back on that planet.  
  
"We left you." This time it was his turn to flinch. It was as if Carter had read his mind. He stood up quickly, putting a hand out to steady himself before quickly moving towards the kitchen, not listening as the others hurried after him. He reached the back door and turned, trapped by the rain and wind. Teal'c was the closest. He reached across and put a hand over the door handle.  
  
"You will not run. You will listen."  
  
Jack's anger flared into life.  
  
"Run! I had to run. How do you think I managed to survive? How dare you tell me not to run!" He felt the bile rise in his stomach and barely made it to the sink in time.  
  
Crap! He knew he should have done those breakfast dishes.  
  
There was that damned hand again - this time rubbing his back soothingly as he spat the smell of smoke from his throat. He let himself be lead back into the living room and stayed quiet while other hands wrapped the blanket back around him.  
  
Finally he could hold back no longer.  
  
"Anyway, what do you mean that you left me? You didn't have a choice. What did you want to do, stay with me and burn?" He felt the bile rising again but fought it down. "Do you have any idea what it was like? I wouldn't want my worst enemy to go through that. Why would you think that I'd be sorry that you didn't? Christ!" As his voice rose he found it harder and harder to speak, harder and harder to draw breath. "Well, you did leave - so just get over it." He swallowed convulsively. "You did leave."  
  
Was that it? Was he that transparent? That pathetic? He burrowed himself back into the soft cushions, feeling the weigh of Daniel's arm across his shoulder.  
  
"Sir?" Carter was standing in front of him holding out a glass of water. Her eyes caught his as his trembling hand reached for the tumbler. She held both his gaze and his water, trying to communicate with him. He felt her guilt overlay his own and it was suffocating.  
  
"Carter, I."  
  
"Colonel, no one gets left behind." Her fingers brushed his own. "No one." She knelt on the carpet in front of him. "And we did leave you."  
  
Teal'c's deep voice echoed in the silence. "We ask your forgiveness, O'Neill."  
  
They could barely hear his answer, it was spoken so softly. "Don't ask me to do that. I can't. There's nothing to forgive. There never was."  
  
"We thought that we'd lost you, Jack. We really thought that you had died. We started grieving. Hell, Jack - we didn't go back to rescue you. We were looking for your damned body!" Daniel's arm held him tighter, pulling him in. "Then you were there and we couldn't believe it. We still can't believe it. I think that's the problem. You were dead and now you're not and it's hard for us to trust ourselves again." Jack shivered in the warmth of his friend's arms. "We're scared that you're leaving us again, Jack and you won't let us help you."  
  
Was that it? They wanted him to forgive them. For giving up on him. All that time he had trusted them to find him, come back for him and they had given up. He had struggled through that hell on earth to reach them.  
  
And they had given up.  
  
Their presence was oppressive. Why did he have to feel responsible for them, for their feelings? He had enough trouble with his own. And the annoying thing was that he understood exactly what was happening here, he just didn't want to admit it. The symptoms were all there, for anyone with experience to see. Posttraumatic stress. It was a wonder that the Doc hadn't kept him in, made him see that damned shrink. He must be getting very good at camouflage - it was probably all the practice he'd had over the years.  
  
He couldn't blame his team. They hadn't done anything that he wouldn't have done, given the same set of circumstances. They had just been convenient scapegoats for him to hide behind.  
  
His friends watched anxiously as Jack shook in Daniel's arms, his labored breaths becoming more and more desperate.  
  
"Should we not call Doctor Fraiser?" Teal'c spoke softly, afraid that he would spook the Colonel into trying to run once more.  
  
He hadn't spoken quietly enough for the Colonel's sharp ears to miss.  
  
"No!" He stiffened. "I'm not going anywhere. I want to stay right here." They couldn't see his face, turned as it was into Daniel's shoulder, but they could hear the panic.  
  
"But sir, Janet could come here. You need to see her." Sam could almost feel the coughs herself. She didn't know what to do. Janet would know.  
  
"I'm staying here, Carter and no one is calling the Doc." The Colonel straightened up and made an attempt to control his breathing. "Is that understood?" Weak though it was, his voice still had that note of command that they were so use to obeying.  
  
"If that is your wish, O'Neill." Teal'c made it clear by his tone that he was not happy. He found the sight of his fellow warrior in such a weaken state very distressing. "Is there anything that you would have us do to help?"  
  
The question took Jack by surprise. He wasn't use to asking for help. Delaying his answer, he reached out and took the glass of water that Carter had put on the coffee table. He swallowed a couple of deep mouthfuls, grateful for the coolness on his parched throat. His hand was still trembling, making the water slosh from side to side. He could feel the other's glances and knew that they had noticed.  
  
"Mind if I sit down, Colonel?" Carter may have couched it as a question, but she obviously took the answer for granted, because, before he could speak, she had already taken the spot next to him on the sofa. There was something very comforting, sitting here between his friends, feeling their warmth. He began to relax and let his eyes drift shut.  
  
He knew that they deserved something from him. Something more than anger and being pushed away. It was easier to talk when he couldn't see their reactions.  
  
"Just stay here, Teal'c. That's what you can do to help." He could feel their startled reaction to his words. "And accept my apology." Jack's breathing was almost back to normal now, or what had passed for normal since the fire. "Just stay right here." He reached out with his left hand and lightly took the ends of Carter's fingers in his. He needed to know that his team was there, where they were suppose to be. He felt, rather than saw Teal'c sit crosslegged on the floor beside them. As his breathing evened out and he started to doze, he knew that he would be able to sleep peacefully. He would never admit it to anyone, but he had been scared. And when you're scared, you lash out at the things that you care for most.  
  
The room was warm and quiet. The trees continued to toss in the driving rain, but the sound didn't wake anyone. The trees were just that, trees - not objects of terror and destruction, waiting to fall. The rain struck the windows - only water, not floods or ice, just life giving water.  
  
The fire was finally out.  
  
The End 


End file.
